


Who Died and Made Us Kings

by overratedantihero



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Canon Typical Violence, Coronation, Engagement, Feudalism, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Shared Throne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-07 19:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14087685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overratedantihero/pseuds/overratedantihero
Summary: Jason receives word that the time has come for him to return to his Father's kingdom to take the throne alongside his brother, Dick. The prodigal sons of Gotham are now kings, and heavy is the head that wears the crown.





	1. Who Died and Made You King?

**Author's Note:**

> I intend for this to be a regularly updated AU, with world-building and entangled relationships and "conflict of the week" almost sit-com esque shenanigans (with some soft core angst.) More about the Kingdom of Gotham and the neighboring kingdoms will be explored, especially in the next chapter, so relationships and tags will be added. 
> 
> Also, feel free to comment with what you want to see happen/scenarios you want the boys to encounter! I don't have a firm plot mapped, so input is welcome.

Jason was driving his sword through the gut of an apothecary who’d built a career on peddling poison when a flash of red and a crackle of lightning announced the presence of the Messenger long before Jason was able to catch a steady glimpse. Ignoring the sick feeling in his gut, Jason extracted his blade and allowed the false wise man to crumple to the ground. The Messenger halted, and crossed his arms across his chest with a frown. Jason’s victim gurgled, and Jason drove a boot in his side to quiet him.

“His humors were imbalanced, I was treating him to a modest bloodletting,” Jason offered. The Messenger did not look amused. “He’s hurt countless people, peddling herbs and spices that tore apart his victim’s minds and stomachs,” Jason amended. “It was kill him or let others be killed. I chose him.”

The Messenger shook his head and let out a lengthy sigh before running a hand through his vibrant red hair (deeper in color than even his tunic) and looking towards the clouds beseechingly.

“I’ve been taught the infallibility of kings, but you’re challenging me, Your Majesty.”

Jason frowned and bent, wiping his sword on the grass to clean it before sheathing his weapon and returning to full height. “You’re mistaken, Messenger. The King is the king. Besides, leave the honorifics where they are due. I abandoned my title when I left Gotham.”

The Messenger returned his gaze to Jason and flashed a wide grin. Then, despite Jason’s protests, The Messenger bent to his knee and lowered his head.

“You embarrass yourself,” Jason growled. “Stand up!”

“It is my duty to bow to the King, Your Majesty,” The Messenger murmured to the ground. “A Crown Prince can never really abandon his title, and the time has come for you to return.” The Messenger lifted his head. “Gotham requires her Kings.”

Jason’s blood ran cold. “… What of King Bruce? Has he taken a leave, a diplomatic mission or a war effort—”

The Messenger shook his head. “The throne grows cold, King. Allow me to escort you. Your counterpart has already returned from his leave, it is time you join him.”

A ringing in Jason’s ears muted The Messenger’s words. Jason swayed. Bruce couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t, he was Bruce. Stubborn as a mule, Death could personally arrive to fetch him and Bruce would cock an eyebrow and dare Death to try. But this was Sir Wallace. Jason may not favor him, but his brother certainly did and that was endorsement enough.

“Okay,” Jason finally spoke, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Take me home. Afterwards send word to Roy and Artemis, they are to join me immediately.” Jason’s rights as King allowed him to choose his personal guard; he trusted no one else to hold the honor. Besides, he would have his Outlaws, even as he yielded to his lawful duty.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Sir Wallace murmured, before sweeping Jason in his arms. Within minutes, Jason allowed Sir Wallace to gently lower him onto the plush carpet adorning that hall in the Fortress which hosted the King’s Quarters. Sir Wallace disappeared immediately afterwards; he did not belong in the scene awaiting Jason.

His siblings stood huddled around a closed door, their whispering hushed by Jason’s arrival. The youngest, Damian, stuck his chin out and glared at Jason. He’d arrived into Bruce’s care after spending his formative years in a foreign kingdom whose customs demanded hereditary succession. Damian resented that Gotham did not hold blood in such high regard, and that resentment clearly couldn’t be tempered even in the aftermath of his father’s death.

Duke and Cassandra clung close to one another, but neither looked particularly concerned. Only surprise colored their features. Surprise at the King (former King’s) mortality, or surprised at Jason’s return? Timothy was a blank slate.

“Dick arrived upwards of an hour ago. He’s holed himself in the King’s chambers ever since, with the King. We’re all shaken, but none greater than he,” Timothy explained, eyes revealing nothing and posture relaxed. Jason suppressed a shiver, and an urge to correct Timothy’s assessment. Jason hadn’t known fear in years, and yet it gripped him now.

“Stand aside,” he ordered, and his siblings parted like the sea. All except Damian.

“I should be Grayson’s counterpart,” Damian growled. “Not you.”

Jason barked out a laugh. “And yet, you weren’t chosen. Stand aside, child, lest I make you.”

Damian did not, and so Duke wrapped an arm around Damian’s chest and pulled him close so that Jason could pass.

Jason hesitated for only a moment before slinging open the heavy oak of King Bruce’s bedroom door. The door swung without protest, unlike when Jason was a child and it took his entire body weight to budge. A testament to the passage of time, to the chasm that had opened between him and his Father.

A heartbeat later, the door shut with a boom and Jason allowed himself to soak in the sight of Dick, crouched next to Bruce’s bed, gripping Bruce’s limp arm as Bruce lay slack. At the sound of the door, Dick looked up, took in Jason, and smiled. It was not the smile that Jason remembered; this smile was muted, tense at the edges. Dick’s eyes betrayed his unease.

“You came,” Dick whispered, lowering Bruce’s arm so that he could stand and stride over to Jason. When he stood in front of Jason, Jason couldn’t help but notice how slight and lean Dick was in comparison to Jason’s bulk.

“Look how big you’ve gotten, my Littlewing,” Dick cooed, looking up to meet Jason’s eyes. And then Dick was embracing Jason and Jason allowed the weight of their loss crash on his shoulders. Tears stung his eyes and his knees threatened to buckle. A glutton for punishment, Jason dared to glance to Bruce’s body—

“How sweet! I’m happy to see my eldest get along,” Bruce said, having sat up in bed. Jason nearly screamed, withholding his voice and shoving Dick aside.

“What in the holy _fuck_ , Bruce!” Jason shouted, swiping his arm away when Dick reached for it. So, perhaps he was unable to withhold his voice after all. “What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were dead! I nearly _mourned_ you, old man!”

Dick burst into laughter and Jason wanted to hit him. “Whatever gave you that idea?” Dick asked. “Bruce is fine.”

“I am fine,” Bruce confirmed. “Disregarding the slight crick in my neck. I may have slept wrong.”

Jason could draw his sword right now and skewer them both. It would instigate Kingdom wide chaos, but at least he’d get his satisfaction. Instead, Jason rubbed his temples.

“You were limp, on the bed. Dick was holding you,” Jason said, slowly, controlling his voice to avoid tearing their throats out with his teeth.

“Bruce sleeps like the dead, I was seeking a pulse for my own amusement,” Dick murmured. “The man abdicated the throne not but a day ago and he’s already settling into retirement with an astounding ease.”

“I’m reclaiming the sleep that wise administration stole from me,” Bruce retorted. “You boys will understand in a matter of decades.”

Anger licked up Jason’s entire body. “I returned because I thought you had died, Bruce. What makes you think I will stay to humor your petty decision?”

Dick opened his mouth, but Bruce shook his head and Dick closed it.

“This decision is anything but petty,” Bruce said, standing from bed to approach Jason. Jason put a hand on the hilt of his sword. “The Kingdom starves for fresh leadership. They grow tire of my resistance to a Counterpart, they never grew used to my break in tradition when I refused to choose one after the death of my parents. They hunger for progressivism and international trade, both of which I have always been unable to provide. My skills and interests are better suited elsewhere. Still in service of the Kingdom, but as a guardian, not a ruler.”

Jason blinked. “You’re going to take up the mantle Dick pranced around in, while cavorting in that village he called a city-state?” Jason retorted, derision dripping in his tone. “Shrouding your face and playing knight?”

Bruce smiled and placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. A hand which Jason considered slicing off. Dick rattled off his defense of Bludhaven, but Jason ignored him in favor of glaring at Bruce.

“You and Dick will make wonderful Kings. You will be loved, and you will usher Gotham forward. Meanwhile, I will concentrate my efforts on weeding out the threats that are beyond a King. Beyond and beneath. You never wanted this, and I did not choose you because I thought otherwise. But, I trust you, Jason.”

Jason frowned and tugged his shoulder from Bruce’s grip. He tore his gaze from Bruce to frown at Dick. Dick had the decency to look sheepish.

“There’s no one I’d rather be by my side, Littlewing,” Dick offered, which was surely a lie. Jason certainly had others he’d prefer. “This is an opportunity. To shape Gotham, alleviate injustice through lawful leadership. For once.”

Dick did not want this either. Jason knew he didn’t. Dick wanted to dress up in the night and vent his anger on ne’er-do-wells and systemic injustice. Dick was afraid of becoming Bruce and unlike Bruce, Dick never felt tied to Gotham. But Dick eagerly lapped up duty and responsibility, and now he wanted Jason to follow suit.

And Bruce. Bruce who wanted to retire as if his responsibility as a public figure could just be shed along with the various fashions he sported when cavorting with the Court. Anger boiled Jason’s blood as he considered the level of sacrifice Bruce demanded of him so easily. Bruce never thought before asking the things he did of his children.

But. Both men were right. This presented a valuable opportunity for Jason to take that which he hated and mold it to his own image. Rectify the Bruce’s failings, shelter the impoverished, redirect and seize control over the criminal presence in Gotham from a seat of power that came with an army. He would have Dick to contend with, because Dick would surely fight him at every turn, but at the same time, he could use his prettier, more sociable older brother too. Dick had the charisma that Jason lacked. Jason had the sharp teeth and even sharper instinct that Dick could never muster. This could work.

“I accept the Kingship,” Jason announced finally. He did not give Dick and Bruce time to look relieved. “But, if you abdicate, then you abdicate. You will have no further say in the administration of this Kingdom, you will keep to your hobbies and you will do so at our will.”

Dick was quick to add, “Solicited advice will be welcome. But otherwise, you will treat us as Kings. We are no longer your Crown Princes or your prodigal sons.”

Bruce’s eye twitched and he tensed. But only for a moment, because then Bruce was offering a small smile and dropping his shoulders.

“Of course,” Bruce said. “Your Majesties.”


	2. Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Jason are crowned kings. Nobility may be worse than they thought.

The day of the coronation, Jason woke with a sinking ache. The week prior had been a flurry of preparation, but he could ignore the context of Sir Alfred’s fingers taking his measurements, and of the kitchen’s bustling activity, and even the context of the gifts that were beginning to pile up in the rear ballroom. But confronted with the day, he found himself wishing for Artemis and Roy and a dragon to slay.

Not that Jason had ever slain a dragon—would he even have _time_ to slay a dragon as king? Was he to adventure again at all? Or would he be shackled to the kingdom like a damsel rather than a dame.

Jason’s burgeoning anguish was hushed by knocking against his door. Wiping a hand across his face to clear his mind, Jason sat up. The beating continued.

“Well, come in, then! Nothing’s keeping you,” Jason grumbled at his visitor. The door swung open and Tim poked his head in, a smirk betraying his delight over the crown’s trajectory. Timothy had always been vocal about how he barely tolerated the responsibilities of the Kingdom, and this coronation solidified his emancipation.

“The Crown Prince asked me to ensure you woke in time for the ceremony,” Tim said, entering the room, his arms laden with the silk underlayers of Jason’s armor piled high with ornamental finery. It had taken several arguments, but Jason had convinced Bruce to let him keep his signature armor. On the condition that it would be made formal, and be painted with the Kingdom’s seal. A bat silhouette and finer threads were a fine trade, as far as Jason was concerned.

“Kindly tell the Crown Prince to fuck off,” Jason retorted, standing and stretching while Tim laid out his day’s regalia.

“Of course, your majesty,” Tim murmured, smirk deepening. “Kindly fuck off, your majesty.”

Jason leveled him with a deadpan stare. “Ha. Ha. If I didn’t despise them, I’d promote you to Court Jester. As it is, you’ll have to settle with what you are: an incorrigible brat.”

Tim winked at him. “I live to please. Besides, it’s not much longer that I get to tease Gotham’s Crown Princes. I hear kings are much more touchy and prideful. Terrible at taking jokes. Too busy with taxes and foreign policy and trade to bother with adventures and raids,” Tim murmured, voice collecting a faux wistfulness. Jason rolled his eyes.

“These kings won’t forget about their spoiled little brothers,” Jason assured him. “We’ll marry you off to the first willing princess, we swear it. A duchess if we must. We’ll barter you off with the upmost discretion.”

Tim didn’t have time to chuck a gauntlet at Jason before Dick poked his head in.

“He jests, Tim. We would never marry you off to a duchess. We’re going to marry you off to Prince Kon-El to solidify our close relationship with Metropolis.”

Tim chucked the gauntlet at Dick instead, who caught it deftly with a grin.

Jason raised his eyebrows at Dick. The ceremony was not for hours, but Dick was already dressed in his finest armor, the metal an obsidian black and branded with his blue insignia. He even wore his gauntlets and his signature weapons, long, ebony escrima sticks, perched from his back. He was dressed as if he’d be crowned in that very room.

“You should be careful, Prince Dick,” Jason murmured, stripping of his night clothes in exchange for the undergarments required of his armor. “One may think you’re too eager for the crown, already dressed as if you’re king.”

Dick and Tim raised their eyebrows in unison. Dick tilted his head and he smiled that awful pitying smile that still made Jason’s hackles rise, years into their adopted lives together.

“What?” Jason hissed, tugging on his tunic. “You look as if all our hounds died and I’m the last to know.”

“Damian’s wails would be heard across the castle grounds,” Tim muttered. “But I’m afraid yours are about to be heard just the same.”

Before Jason could snap at his brother for being cryptic, Dick stepped forward. “Jason, I am not early, you’re late. The coronation has hours yet, but the reception our guests and emissaries has already begun. Princess Diana of Themyscira and Queen Mera of Atlantis have arrived, they approach the gatehouse as we speak.”

“Ambassadors,” Tim murmured conspiratorially. “Always suspiciously on time.”

Dick scoffed. “Say that to the Emerald Knights. The only realm-wide peacekeeping order of their kind, and they can’t conquer punctuality to save their lives.”

Meanwhile, Jason scrambled to dress. He had forgotten about the hellacious reception required of such affairs, and if he weren’t so hellbent on getting his armor on before needing to receive their guests. Normally, Bruce would plaster on a smile and handle these affairs while Jason slunk in the background or just didn’t show. But with Bruce abdicating, that wasn’t an option.

Before he finished securing his last gauntlet, Dick was already upon him, brushing his hair and rubbing some sweet-smelling oil into it.

“Hey,” Jason grumbled. “Stop that. What is that?”

“Grooming. I realize you may have forgotten while roving with the Outlaws, but it’s expected of a Crown Prince,” Dick teased. “How is Roy, by the way?”

Jason shooed Dick away from himself and checked over his ornamental armor, ensuring everything was in place. He may whine in the privacy of his bedchamber, but he certainly didn’t want to look foolish in front of the esteemed Princess and Queen.

“Fine. He’s fine. I sent Wallace after him, he should be present.”

Dick raised his eyebrows. “Sending out my guard to fetch your own?”

Jason squinted at Dick. “No. You are _not_ choosing Sir Wallace to be a member of your personal guard.”

Dick looked aghast, but he was smiling. “And why not? He’s one of my dearest friends and most trusted confidantes. And the Central Kingdoms will be pleased that I chose one of their own. You know that the other kingdoms think highly of our guards, of a stake in our kingdom.”

“They think highly of our guards. They think we’re weak, human. We’re an anomaly in this realm, Dick, you can admit it. They like physical power they hold over us, even if we’re the seat of power in the realm. And Sir Wallace is irritating, that’s why.”

“What about Kings Oliver and John? They’re human. Queen Lois? King Leonard? You sell our contemporaries short, Jason. And Wallace will stay as my guard, that’s final. Roy will be one of yours, I’m assuming. Lady Dinah will appreciate it,” Dick murmured, sneaking a few more swipes at Jason’s hair before Jason could draw his sword.

“Do you like that hand?” Jason hissed. “And yes, he will. Artemis too. Speaking of Lady Dinah, will the Birds of Prey be present? Or are we going to play gracious, faithful hosts?”

Dick laughed, a long a full laugh. “Oh, no. We may be gracious, but we are sons of Bruce. The Birds of Prey will be very present, I’ve already spoken to Ladies Barbara and Helena.”

Jason lifted his eyebrows and Tim coughed in the background. “I should take my leave,” Tim said, backing out of the room. “I wish not to overhear anything scandalous about the esteemed spymasters.”

Dick had the gall to looked shocked. “Shame on you both! All we did was speak, about the logistics of the evening. I wouldn’t take advantage of our pasts while planning for a realm-wide event.”

Jason and Tim blinked at him.

“I wouldn’t!” Dick hissed. “Besides. Lady Barbara disagrees with my lifestyle and Lady Helena has recently begun batting her eyes at the Captain of our Guard.”

“Ah,” Tim said. “The truth will out.”

Dick shot him a withering glare, and so Tim scampered out. Dick turned his attention to Jason.

“Well. Are you ready?”

“Absolutely not,” Jason muttered, clapping Dick on the shoulder. “Let us go. We shouldn’t keep our guests waiting.”

By the time the boys made it to the great hall, Bruce’s laughter was echoing against the aging stone as he and Diana caught up, Diana with her adventures and Bruce with his retirement plotting. Mera lounged against a pillar, glancing around seemingly with disinterest. When the boys entered, those dark green eyes slid to them, calculating and cold. Diana, on the other hand, glowed.

“Jason! Dick!” She cried, breezing past Bruce to embrace first Jason. She released him only to cup his face in her hands. “You’ve grown so much,” she cooed, “since I last held you.” She tilted her head down to peck him on the forehead.

“And Dick,” she breathed, just as sweetly. She embraced him as she did Jason, following it by cupping Dick’s face and pecking him on the forehead too. “Dick, Jason, I am so proud. Both of you have grown into such fine, young men.”

Jason took heart that if he must grow beet red, at least Dick was a complementary crimson. They had known Diana for most of their lives, they’d hid among her skirts and played with her sword and lasso, and yet her attention and love were still a tidal wave that felled them with only kind eyes and a little praise.

Remembering himself, Dick fell to a knee and bowed his head. “Princess Diana, Queen Mera. Your Highness and Your Majesty. We welcome you to our Court and appreciate you bearing witness to our kingdom’s transition.”

Jason quickly followed suit, keeping his lips a tight line but falling to his knee and bowing his head. Mera’s heels clicked across the floor as she approached. When Jason dared peek up, Diana was hiding a smile behind a cupped hand (a useless gesture, as mirth brimmed from her oak colored eyes) and Mera was smirking.

“Rise, young kings. We accept your invitation and we will witness your coronation. Then, we will return to Themyscira and Atlantis and assure our people that our alliances with the Kingdom of Gotham remain strong through this transition of power. Rise, and confirm for me that I speak the truth.”

Both boys rose, and this time Jason spoke. “You speak the truth, Your Majesty. Our ascension changes nothing about our people’s commitment to peace and trade with yours.”

Mera smiled, a genuine smile. “Excellent. We will leave you to greet your guests. We have business to discuss with His Magesty,” she murmured, tilting her head in the direction of Bruce, who smirked.

“Oh?” Dick asked lightly, although Jason recognized the flush that creeped up his neck. “And what business does the former King have to conduct without the presence of his successors?” Dick leveled Bruce with a glare and Jason heard the unspoken, _you promised_.

“Business too unpleasant and rudimentary for kings,” Diana said, placing her hands on either boy’s shoulders. “Your sovereignty is ours to protect, as your predecessors and mentors. We will not compromise your budding rule with our unpleasantries.” And then she strode past the both of them to join Bruce and Mera. Mera who leaned towards Diana as if to whisper in her ear, only to peck her temple. Jason pretended not to see.

Dick’s shoulders were uncharacteristically stiff and a scowl twisted his features. One hand braced on his hip, where a knight would keep his sword and he shifted from foot to foot. Dick must’ve missed Mera’s gesture entirely and perhaps that was for the best. Dick could gossip as well as any noble.

“How is it, brother, that I we are being undermined before we even take the throne? The crown has scarcely been lifted from his head and he already behaves as if our conversation never happened!” Dick muttered. Jason rolled his eyes.

“He is as he is. It is why I left, it is why I would have stayed gone if not for your summons. Don’t waste your self-pity on me, Dick, until you admit that you’ve drug me into the game you say you despise.”

Jason felt warm satisfaction blossom in his chest when Dick huffed and stepped towards Jason, finger raised.

“If not me, then someone else would have come for you. You can’t run away forever, Jason. Not even you can stay underground for very long when the weight of his legacy keeps you tethered to us, this Kingdom.”

Jason frowned. Riling Dick up was suddenly less fun. He opened his mouth to retort, but a trumpet sounded and the great doors swung open. Their guests had arrived, the volume of them sweeping in almost at once.

For the next hour, Jason and Dick plastered smiles on their faces and grew intimately familiar with the ground as they bowed, kneeled, and otherwise prostrated themselves as hosts. First was King Oliver and King John, early only at the behest of Oliver, who’d hope to catch a glance at Dinah before the festivities began and pulled her from the reception. But she and her cohort hadn’t appeared yet, and so instead Oliver took to finding trouble while John dutifully tried to keep him in line. Shortly after, Artemis and Roy arrived, and Jason slung himself into Roy’s open arms so brutally that Dick feared one or both of them had cracked bones.

“Roy! Artemis!” Jason greeted. Artemis clapped him on the back, pushing him further into Roy. “I assume you understand your role here? That you accept?”

Roy pulled away to look Jason firmly in the eyes. “Of course. We stand by you, come hell or high water. Even if it means having to look at that dragon’s snout over there- oh! Dick! Didn’t see you there!” Roy grinned, before hugging Dick too. Dick laughed and clapped Roy on the back.

“It will be nice to see you so often again,” Dick murmured. He glanced at Artemis. “Jason has chosen well.”

“Of course, he has,” Roy retorted. “He is himself. Now excuse me, I need to disappear before I feel compelled to strike down King Oliver. In order to protect Jason, of course,” he winked and Jason shoved him.

“Be gone then, scoundrel. It’s less fun to break you out of prison when I have the option of pardoning you instead.”

Roy and Artemis took their leave and soon after the Central Kingdoms’ kings, King Barrence and King Leonard, arrived, alongside Sir Wallace and the squire Wallace. Also present were Queen Iris and her lady, Jesse. The Central Kingdoms always arrived with a caravan, but they were a pleasant crowd, and Jason found himself at ease even given his distaste for social affairs. Sir Wallace and Dick whispered conspiratorially to one another and King Barrence smiled at Jason.

“I unfortunately haven’t had the pleasure of seeing you at Court very much,” Barrence murmured, “but I have no doubt you’ll make a fine king. Do keep your brother and my knight out of trouble?”

Jason cracked an indulgent smile. “I make no promises, Your Majesty.”

Jason and Dick hardly had to greet the King and Queen of Metropolis. Damian, Bruce, and Tim all appeared around Jason as soon as the King and Queen arrived, alongside their sons Jonathan and Kon-El. The other royals and milling nobles glanced their way immediately. It wasn’t the timbre of Clark’s voice or the confidence of their walk or the wealth of their Kingdom. Clark and Lois broke a realm-wide norm when they married after ascending the throne together. It was still controversial, even if Metropolis welcomed them without fuss.

“Bruce,” Clark greeted warmly. Bruce shook his hand.

“Clark,” he returned.

“Bruce, what am I to do now that you’re not calling all of the gossip to your own Kingdom?” Clark teased. Bruce smiled softly.

“Cause enough ruckus for the both of us. What else?”

Clark quickly gave the boys claps on the shoulders and reminders to be brave, wise and kind before absconding with Bruce and Diana. Lois told them to ignore Clark, and to instead be fierce and clever while Jon and Kon-El disappeared with the princes.

Other nobles and emissaries arrived, and Jason found himself quickly growing exhausted with the pageantry. He must have become short and terse, because Dick pulled him aside during a lull.

“Jason, let me.”

Jason looked at him, bewildered. “Dick, it’s not as if I can take my leave. Believe me, I would have by now.”

Dick shook his head. “Let me do the small talk, the little diplomacies. I see you growing tired, which means they do as well. We cannot show weakness, not now, not before we even rest on the throne. Allow me to absorb the social pleasantries, you’re our sword.”

Jason wanted to argue, but he was too tired. And so, he abided by Dick’s suggestion and found himself falling into the role of strong, silent, and dangerous all too easily. He spared a glance to King John and wondered if that’s how he felt too, when surrounded by the foolish laughter and farces of King Oliver.

Jason did not get to bask in Dick’s social graces for very long, because the royalty hailing from the Queendom of Tamaran arrived, shattering Dick’s concentration. They entered with no fanfare and little announcement, but nevertheless the attention of the room panned to them as Queen Koriand’r sauntered in, hair blazing behind her. The Dame Donna Troy and the Witch Raven framed her, although the Queen wasn’t known for needing a personal guard.

Whispers broke the room’s sudden quiet. Donna Troy hailed from Themyscira, same as Diana, but chose to forsake her people to join Koriand’r’s kingdom of misfits and formerly nationless people. Raven, too, stirred controversy. The daughter of a demon, she was mistrusted by most. Only the mentorship of Gotham’s own magician, Zatanna, gave Raven license and authority to enter the fold of nobility with some level of acceptance. But the gossip around the Queen’s company was stale. More tantalizing was rumor of her and Dick’s impending engagement.

Jason didn’t care for gossip. While Koriand’r may be a queen, Jason remembered her fondly as Kori the Princess who accompanied him and Roy as a member of the Outlaws. She had ultimately left them, pursuing the higher calling and status of the throne of Tamaran, which she used to collect strays, outcasts, and the hopeless so that they might gather around her fire. But still, she would always be an Outlaw, and Jason loved her and welcomed the potential for an engagement with Dick.

Of course, if Dick ever hurt her, Jason would be obligated to kill his co-ruler and that was frowned upon, but Jason was prepared to shoulder those consequences.

Speaking of which, as soon as Dick saw her, his face lit with adoration and he practically collapsed on both knees to prostrate himself before her as she approached. Her musical laughter broke the tension in the room, and spurts of conversation buzzed in the room even as she crouched down and coaxed Dick’s chin up.

“Hello, Dick,” she murmured, her own voice brimming with affection. “As usual, you look good on your knees.”

Dick, the asshole, didn’t even blush although Jason was ducking his head to hide his own reddening face.

“And, as usual, you tower with a grace unmatched, my Queen,” Dick murmured, rising to his feet to take Kori’s hand and kiss it. Donna and Raven sported twin smirks.

“Tread lightly, Dick,” Raven murmured, “Lest the entire realm realize the King of Gotham need only the sight of Queen Koriand’r to roll over and expose his underbelly.”

“Dick is no dog,” Donna amended. “Though Queen Koriand’r may make him one yet.”

“You two!” Dick admonished, but he was laughing and hugging each in turn. Jason was reminded that while Kori once fought alongside Jason’s side, before then she fought alongside Dick, Raven, and Donna as an Order of Knights. They were all old friends. This engagement, should it happen, would serve Dick well.

“Jason,” Kori murmured, finally turning her attention to him. Jason offered a small grin.

“Queen. Should I bow, or would you prefer a curtsy?” Jason smirked when Dick shot him a warning glare. Kori only smiled.

“I’d actually prefer you to dance.”

Jason settled on bowing, and then Donna was called away by Diana who embraced her, and immediately showed her off to Mera. Mera had met Donna, but Diana nevertheless reintroduced them every time, too proud of Donna to hold her tongue.

Koriand’r took her leave from the boys, to go mingle with the crowd, but not before bending down to steal a kiss from Dick, who was left watching her as one watches the stars on a particularly bright night.

“Close your jaw, we have guests to greet,” Jason grumbled. Dick grinned lopsidedly.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Although I think most everyone has arrived.”

The thunderous galloping of hooves silenced Dick, and they turned towards the entrance in time for the gate to burst open in a flash of green light.

“You had to invoke them, didn’t you?” Jason hissed at Dick. Suddenly, Bruce was behind them, hands on the boys’ shoulders.

“I’ve never been so glad to have abdicated,” Bruce sighed, as if he wasn’t still technically the King of Gotham, at least until the ceremony. “Godspeed, boys. It is my humble recommendation as your predecessor and mentor that you immediately banish them from Gotham, and if you’re up for it, the realm.”

Before either Jason or Dick could respond, the Emerald Knights entered, having dismounted their horses, and offered them to the available stable hands outside the gate. They walked in formation, with their Captain, Hal Jordan, leading. Behind him Sirs John Stewart, Kyle Rayner, and Guy Gardner strode. Behind _them_ , the newest additions, Dame Jessica Cruz and Sir Simon Baaz, followed suit.

In their glowing green armor, they looked a formidable force. Each carried a sword, the hilt of which shone with the same unearthly glow. The symbol of their Order, a lantern, adorned each of their chests. Eyes in the room fixated on the rings each sported, the very rings crafted from that seemingly magic ore in the foreign land of Oa. The rings gave their wearers the power to manifest light, and in turn, the power to maintain order in the realm as nationless peace keepers. Their Order was respected, powerful, and effective.

“Where’s that old man! I’ve gotta give him his due, as if choosing to rule unilaterally weren’t controversial enough, now he’s fucked off the throne entirely,” Hal’s voice boomed through the hall, prompting eye rolls and excited cries from Kings Oliver and Barrence. Hal spotted Barrence and grinned.

“We must be late, to follow behind the fastest man alive,” Hal called from across the room. Barrence rolled his eyes and nodded at Sir Wallace before, in the blink of an eye, appearing beside Hal.

“I was behooved to come early, by my knight. Now leave the King be, he has guests to entertain, and isn’t interested in your games.”

Bruce clapped the boys’ shoulders once before disappearing into the throng of guests, using Barrence’s admonishment as license to avoid a conversation with Hal. Unfortunately, that meant that Hal set his sights on Jason and Dick. Jason didn’t mind the Emerald Knights terribly much, but he did _hate_ Sir Kyle. The feeling was mutual, and Sir Kyle didn't offer him so much a glance.

“Congratulations on your ascension, young kings,” Hal offered, without a bow. John nodded at the boys while Simon and Jessica gave proper bows. Guy looked bored and Kyle looked nauseous, their shoulders stiff and straight.

“We’re honored by your presence,” Dick murmured. “And hope that you enjoy an uneventful ceremony.”

Dick was right, about the ceremony. Once it began, it went quickly and painlessly. Each boy was gifted the royal regalia, consisting of a crown, blackened armor imprinted with the image of the Bat, and swords similarly adorned with the Kingdom's iconography. They bowed before the former king and listened politely as emissaries from each kingdom announced their fealty to the seat of their realm. A chorus sang and the boys were seated in the thrones of Gotham.

But before the ceremony could end, they were to choose their personal guard. Although each kingdom brought an entourage in the hopes that one of their own would be picked to guard the powerful but human kings of Gotham, this event was laughably predictable. Jason announced his choices of Roy and Artemis and Dick announced his choices of Sir Wallace and Dame Donna. Jason raised his eyebrow at that choice, as Donna was one of Kori’s closest friends and choosing her would tie Donna to Gotham. Koriand’r, from her seat among the foreign royalty, only smiled.  Sure enough, before the crowd could disperse for the succeeding feast, Dick dropped to a knee and proposed to Queen Koriand’r, who of course accepted. Later, Jason would learn that they had planned for Donna to join Dick’s guard, to further solidify the relationship between their kingdoms and to bolster their engagement. Despite general custom in Gotham, Queen Koriand’r would not join Dick in his kingdom and would remain a sovereign, although the two intended to visit each other frequently. And in between their visits… the two were to be married, not monogamous.

Just like that, Dick and Jason were kings. Jason was almost startled at how easy it all was. As he filed into the feasting hall alongside Dick, he mused at the comfort of their positions. And, as if invoked by Jason’s own hubris, chaos almost immediately ensued.

Jason couldn’t tell who started it. He knew only that Kings Barrence and Oliver were suddenly at one another’s throats. King Leonard had a sword drawn, prompting King John to pull out a dagger of his own. Roy, inexplicably, decided that he should defend King Barrence and had his bow drawn taught.

“You’ll have to talk to him,” Bruce offered, appearing next to Jason. “As your personal guard, he represents the crown and is a member of the royal family.”

“That is not our concern right now,” Dick hissed. “What- what do we even do here? They’re sovereigns, we can’t just tell them to stand down as if they’re children.” The two kings’ shouting escalated, and now the crowd was stirring, riling up.

“I’d recommend encouraging King Leonard. He’s almost ruthless enough to kill King Oliver, and the endorsement of the Kings of Gotham may give him that push he needs.”

Jason’s jaw dropped. “That’s not advice! You just dislike King Oliver, you crotchety old man.”

Bruce shrugged. “I _am_ the crotchety old man, not the king. So, I get to say such things. You two, however, are rulers. So. Go rule.” And, as he had the entire day, Bruce promptly left them to mull over the situation. 

Finally, bearing their inaction no more, Jason growled and put his hand on his own sword, prepared to bodily separate the two kings. He surged forward, even as Dick shouted at him.

“Don’t you dare!” Dick cried out. But Jason was already approaching the two, drawing his sword from his sheath. Dick decided to begin shouting at Kings Barrence and Oliver instead, since his words didn’t seem to reach Jason. He was no more effective for it.

But, right before Jason shoved himself into the fray, a whistle sounded in the air. Barrence and Oliver followed the sound, as did most of the hall.

Hal leaned against a wall, arms crossed. “Come on, Barry, Ollie. Get over yourselves for two fucking hours, would you?”

Jason froze, eyes widening. He fully expected a brawl to ensue, for the fighting to escalate beyond what Jason himself could handle. But, as if Hal had flipped a switch, the tension drained from Oliver and Barrence.

“Hal, he insults my land and my throne,” Barrence whined, although Leonard sheathed his sword. Likewise, King John returned his dagger. Oliver crossed his arms.

“He relies too much on stringent order. He runs the risk of repressing his people, and I dislike monarchs who disrespect those they are sworn to protect.”

Barrence looked ready to fight again, but Hal strode forward. “Ollie, be nice. Barry does a fine job of running his kingdom. His people love him, and you know it. Barry, you can’t take Ollie so personally. You two are in the hall of Gotham, your squabbles insult your host. Respect this event and back down, at least until you may fight properly outside of Gotham’s borders.”

Without further ado, the fight deflated and Barrence and Oliver separated themselves from each other. Conversation began again, and the feast proceeded with a light atmosphere.

Dick joined Jason. “He knew this would happen,” Dick said. “He knew Sir Hal would intervene and deescalate. Not as a peacekeeper, as their friend.”

Jason grunted. “He’s punishing us for leaving. He’s making us relearn court politics on our own.”

“Not on your own,” Donna murmured, approaching them alongside Sir Wallace and Artemis. “You have us. You have your family. And you have a kingdom of people relieved to see a sense of tradition returned to the throne.”

“And Dickie has an obscenely powerful and attractive new fiancée,” Sir Wallace added, with a wink at Dick. “So, stop complaining and enjoy the feast. Today is a day of celebration. Tomorrow, you begin your rule. Savor your last taste of freedom while you still can.”

Artemis placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You will learn to manage such conflicts,” she assured him. “And for those you can’t, I have an arrow.”

Jason willed his raised hackles to drop. They were right. Today was a day for feasting. Tomorrow, the real work began. Bruce was apparently no longer a resource, but, whenever was he? Jason could do this, without him.

And, if all else failed, he could always abscond as an outlaw.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is just the intro/premise. Next chapters promise to be much longer, I swear.


End file.
